Fighting on Nothing
by FHT3rdandCo
Summary: Of the many things Kyle Broflovski had expected to see when he entered the alleyway behind his apartment complex was most definitely not a dying Mysterion. K2. AU.
1. 7:30PM 6:05AM

((A/N I love Mysterion way too much... enjoy the fail epicness of it all as I attempt to write anything vaguely legible :D

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Matt & Trey))

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><p><em><span>Encounter One - 7:30PM-6:05AM<span>_

The dirty misted glass reflected his orange parka.

The rain pounded heavily over him, soaking him and slowly freezing his fingers.

No, that was wrong, right now he wasn't Kenny. He was something more, not the poor ignored child that would do anything for some spare change.

He wasn't vulnerable, he wasn't weak, he wasn't insecure.

_Then why are you looking at me?_

Perfect blue eyes stared at him emotionless, giving nothing away. That look, that flicker of despair in the reflections eyes made his stomach tear. He felt bile rise up his throat and he resisted the urge to heave.

His vision blurred again and he only saw red, red on top of dark purple and grey. His whole body numbed over, he couldn't feel anything.

_Shock._

He held his shaking hand to his face, red staining it.

_When...?_

His vision unfocused and he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't lose consciousness, then it would be game over. He squinted one eye open and stared anxiously at his reflection. He couldn't be weak right now, so why was he seeing...

A gasp and a sharp pain, and he was consumed by blinding pain. He only saw white.

No, he couldn't fall, not now.

He slid his left foot and leaned limply against the wall behind him to catch himself. Sharp, painful intakes of air, the December air freezing as it filled his lungs. The rain blared in his eardrums, making him frantic and disorientated. He could only smell iron and filth.

His vision was sharp, darting place to place in desperate attempt for some form of help in the alleyway, desperation taking over his pride. His eyes finally landed on a blur of green and orange.

He feebly reached out his hands towards the figure in front of him, faintly murmuring a plea for help before his vision completely blurred as he hit the concrete with a thud. The iconic purple-clad figure lay sprawled on the wet of asphalt of the narrow alleyway, blood pooling around him, diluted by the rain water.

The broken glass reflected a crying boy.

Of the many things Kyle Broflovski had expected to see when he entered the alleyway behind his apartment complex was most definitely not a dying Mysterion.

In the recent months the vigilante had appeared, putting a stop to the raging crime that had developed in South Park in recent years. The small town had grown corrupt and constant thefts and unexplained murders had become common events. The media had taken up the story by storm, putting full force on increasing dependence and popularity on the vigilante. The constant questions on his true identity had kept the story fresh to the audience and had built-up a fan-base for the purple-clad hero. Others of course resented the rising hero and had caused many scenes and riots in the town.

Kyle however, hadn't really given a flying crap about the hero, more focused on his freshman year of college than pop-culture. The redhead had never been one to follow recent fads and instead stayed level-headed and concentrated on his education. His best friend constantly made fun of him for his nature to be 'behind the times', which occasionally made him feel self-conscious and slightly insecure, but he generally shrugged it off and kept his strong individual personality.

He stopped himself short from dialing the final one from 911, reconsidering the trip to the hospital visit that would most definitely develop media attention.

More that anything, Kyle did _not_ want to be involved in some crazy super-hero and super-villan fiasco _or_be swamped by the media and interviews about his insane encounter with Mysterion. He had seen the interviews on TV of people had only witnessed him jump over an overhead building and he really didn't want to imagine what he'd be put through for having met him face to face.

Plus it didn't seem that Mysterion wanted to be caught by the media either, much less unmasked.

Flipping his phone shut and shoving it in his coat pocket Kyle took a deep breath before walking over to assist the bleeding man.

Unknowingly, he had taken his first step into the tragic world of Mysterions life. Into an abyss that would take everything he had to climb out of.

He heaved the limp man up the fire-escape of his apartment, avoiding contact with anyone, gingerly rested the man on his sofa, and proceeded to treat his injuries. He silently thanked his first-aid class he had taken before becoming a camp coach his senior year of high school, otherwise he would have been a bumbling fool in this situation.

He immediately went to treat the large cut on the man's side, stripping off his gray shirt with the iconic green 'M' and using it to apply pressure to the wound.

Luckily it hadn't been that deep but had only been bleeding a lot, once he finally managed to get his side to stop bleeding he moved on to the less serious problem areas. Treating the cuts on his arms, and other parts of his body, icing the huge bruise on his chest, and other small things.

He felt his stomach dropped when he grabbed the back of the cape defenders head to readjust him to a more comfortable position and felt something wet. He pulled hand back from under the hood and stared at his bloody hands.

There was no getting out of this one.

He had been desperately avoiding unmasking the lone hero, the less he knew about him the better, but now he knew that he had a head injury. It could be fatal if it wasn't treated. Kyle swallowed some access saliva and built up his courage. He felt like he was walking into some deep shit but his conscious didn't want a person dying in his care.

He silently cursed his moral standards as he proceeded to gently peel off the hood that had stuck to the sticky blood on the back of his head. He was mildly surprised to see that golden blond hair poke out in all directions whence he removed the hood. Blood stained the golden locks disturbingly and Kyle gulped.

So now he knew that Mysterion was a blond, _'Lets try and keep it at that'_he thought as he searched for the source of the wound. He immediately wanted to hit something when he realized that it was under his mask on the left side of his head, just behind the ear.

Now he had to remove the mask as well. Damn it.

With shaky hands he untied the mask and slowly lifted it off his face. He blinked when he looked at the boy in front of him. He had expected a man in his late-twenties, not someone that didn't look a day over eighteen. He looked younger than Kyle even. Briefly Kyle imagined the young blond pulling off all those amazing feats that he'd heard about on the news, all the sincerely dangerous situations the kid had been in. He felt awe and mild concern for the man in front of him before he began to treat the wound.

In the back of his head he briefly wondered how he could convince Mysterion when he woke up that he'd never spill his secret and of how much he didn't want to be involved with him.

When he finished he smiled down at his work satisfied by his slightly more than mediocre job. At least the towns hero wasn't dying any longer, just kind of really injured. He looked at the skinny half-naked boy in slight wonder. Something about him compelled the redhead, he wanted to help him, wanted to know more...

He shook his head briefly, shrugging off the thought as exhaustion from his long day. He headed off into the kitchen to prepare some snack before he plopped on the floor in front of the couch and flicked on the TV. A part of him told him not to leave the blond alone.

Waking up from a hazy and restless sleep the blond lazily groaned as he tried to open his eyes. Who had left the damn TV on? His head pounded painfully and he winced. Cracking one eye open he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The room was dark besides the glow of the flickering images on TV to his right.

_What...?_

Turning his head to his side he ignored the painful stab in his side as he got sight of the red tuft of hair by his face.

He knitted his brows together in confusion as he reached a bandaged head to his aching head.

_Bandages...?_

Kenny felt his unmasked face and the bandages on his forehead and his heart dropped. Memories of before he passed out flooded back to him, and he mentally kicked himself at the memory of his plea for help. His mind started racing at the possibilities of what had happened afterwards and none of them were good.

He nearly jumped into a sitting position before he curled back into himself at the blinding pain in his side. The sudden movement jerking Kyle awake, having fallen asleep by the blonds side watching the TV.

"Fuck..." said blond hissed painfully.

Hearing his patient was awake snapped Kyle out of his half asleep state into full consciousness. Rising to his feet in one swift movement he reached the injured vigilante and pushed him gently down by the shoulders.

"Shh... Don't move, your injuries will reopen." Kyle gently soothed as he tried to push the other boy down.

Kenny shot his head up from his fetal position, electric blue eyes glaring at the redhead with mistrust.

For a moment, Kyle could only stare at those eyes, almost completely lost in their depth. Boyish innocence, defiance, responsibility, exhaustion, fear, pride, grit, and... sorrow? It was stunning.

But that quickly wore off as he continued talking, "I put in way too much effort treating you for you open your wounds again." He ranted in mild annoyance. When the unmasked Mysterion still looked at him like he was about to kill a puppy he sighed running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone about you, I don't want to get involved one bit. But my conscious couldn't just let me leave you in front of my apartment to die."

Kenny had honestly not expected to hear that, generally whenever a civilian had ever gotten close enough to talk to him they were all over him asking for his autograph. Either that, or trying to kill him, frame him, or do anything in their power to discredit him. Not offer him genuine kindness laced with irritation. He kind of like it.

"After you're better enough to not die you can go and continue you superhero business or whatever. I'll forget all about you and we can just move on and forget this little fiasco, okay?" Kyle continued motioning with his hands to illustrate his points.

The confusion took over his mistrust as he looked up at the redhead, really looking at him for the first time. He stared at Kyle's freckled face, hid fiery red hair, his straight nose, and his annoyed green eyes. He still didn't trust him, years of giving the benefit of the doubt and betrayal being beat into him.

He didn't trust anyone.

He reluctantly leaned back into the couch, the pain in his side bringing him to a cold sweat, but he didn't lose face. Number one rule of being Mysterion, never let weakness show, poker face. He ignored the fact that the man in front of him and already seen him at his weakest and most vulnerable.

_Well at least my 'savior' is a cute redhead, I always did have a soft spot for redheads..._

He cheekily smirked up at Kyle, a mischievous glint in his eyes, Kyle blinked taken aback not expecting such a devilish expression from the town's 'hero'.

"But you took the trouble to strip me, and now you're saying you don't wanna finish the job? What a tease." was Kenny's sultry response. Perversion was always his forte, and the guy looked fun to mess with. Anything was a nice distraction from the stabbing pain.

Kyle however, wasn't quite appreciating 'small talk'.

_Did Mysterion seriously just hit on me...?_

When Kyle only blinked back at him he let out a hearty laugh, "You're kinda cute when you get all flustered like that." He stared at him with mirth resting his hands behind his head, ignoring the painful sting when his arm brushed against the side of his head.

_He is hitting on me!_

Heat crept up his cheeks at the attention, and his mind raced for a appropriate response. Somewhere in between 'ew, no' and 'how hard _did_you hit your head?'.

Instead he went for, "I never would've pegged Mysterion for a flirt." edged with annoyance as he not so gently threw a pillow in his general direction. He felt mildly satisfied at the strained 'oof!' he received in response.

"Dude, what was that for?" He asked raising an eyebrow, holding the pillow against his bare chest with a huff.

"For suddenly acted like you own the place." Kyle said dignified, "You may be injured and a guest, but I'm not going to grovel at your feet because you can kick some ass. Now go back to sleep so you'll heal faster and I can kick you out." Kyle gave him a skeptic look, his agitation at the situation becoming more than evident.

(And maybe more than anything, venting his frustration over the Mysterion-fad)

Kenny was really starting to like the guy, his attitude was unexpected but at the same time amusing, like a welcomed change of pace. Unknowingly he let his guard slip around him and couldn't help but relax. It'd been the first time in the past few months that he hadn't been faced with drama and tight situations.

Though being in some unknown guys apartment unmasked, injured, and dropping his guard would most definitely be labeled a tight situation in his book.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Would my caretaker at least be as generous enough to grace me with his name?" His eyes glinted with mirth as he humoured him.

Kyle hesitated for a second, contemplating the pros and cons of revealing his identity, before finally sighed in defeat, "...Kyle." It was late and he was beginning to care less and less about staying uninvolved and more about getting sleep.

A sly smirk popped on Kenny's face "Kyle, eh..." he wiggled his eyebrows in good humour. Unfortunately, Kyle was not appreciating the flirtations.

With an aggravated sigh, Kyle ran his hands through his red curls again, "Look, it's two in the fucking morning and I have class in four hours, could you please stop being a smart-ass and go to sleep?"

He almost screamed and smothering the wounded vigilante when Kenny gave a perverted smirk and a "My ass _is_rather smart... hadn't known you'd been ogling it." Instead he settled for a dirty look and headed off to his bedroom.

Kenny could only laugh under his breath as his savior slammed the bedroom door shut. The guy had been too much fun to tease.

_Never lose face._

The smile became strained as he resisted the coughs that pleaded to come out. Eventually, once he couldn't handle the urge any longer he coughed violently shaking his frame, reflex causing him to bring his hands to cover his mouth.

He could only let out a morbid smile at the blood that was now lacing his fingers.

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><p>The searing beeping of Kyle's alarm echoed throughout the small apartment. Lazily and sleep deprived the Jew slowly stretched and reached around his bed blindly for the nearest jacket.<p>

Why was it so fucking cold?

Sluggishly the freshman got out of bed finding his way to the bathroom. Hugging his jacket close to his form he stumbled down the hall not even bothering to open his eyes. It was his apartment and he already knew where everything was.

He stopped short as a gust of cold wind hit him, snapping him into consciousness like a splash of cold water. He opened his eyes wide to the living room entrance to his left with confusion.

He could only describe it as stunning.

His white curtains blew majestically in the wind, whipping left to right and finally revealing the blond behind them.

The blonds eyes danced with death and mirth as he caught Kyle's green ones, his half-naked frame standing tall half-outside the window frame glowing in the early morning sun.

Kyle couldn't move, couldn't speak, entranced by the boy in front of him.

_Angelic._

Blood trickled down his side from underneath the bandages, dripping on the redheads beige carpet.

"Thanks for everything Kyle, you were a real cutie." His words crystal clear across the room, "See ya later."

Kyle could only gape wide-eyed as he leaned out the window, falling headfirst out of the third story.

He raced to the window as fast he could leaning out the window to where his guest had fallen, hoping in the back of his head that all those superhero cliches were right and he wasn't falling to his death just using his amazing superhero reflexes to freak Kyle out.

He managed to catch him blowing a cheeky kiss back up at the redhead, giving him a lazy grin before his body hit the pavement.

_Crunch_.

Blood splattered across the black asphalt, the heroes limp form sprawled disturbingly on the cold ground. There was a bright smile on his face, dead eyes still looking mirthfully up at Kyle's.

"...you bastard."

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><p><em><br>__((Ending Notes: Dude, not cool Kenny, someone has to clean that up! First chapter up! Probably a lot more to go... ^^;;; Like, hate, want to hit your head repeatedly against a wall from the sheer stupidity and horrible writing? Review please! Or I'll get sad and mope in a corner because I think no one likes my writing and give up because of my low self-esteem. FEED MY DWINDLING EGO. _

_Sickie Burbs out!))_


	2. Faint Recognition

((I'm so sorry for the super long wait! I had the first part of this finished for awhile but it took me forever to finish the rest ;w; I'm such a failure...

But anyway, thank you, everyone that reviewed, thank you all so much! Each and every review made me giddy inside and gave me courage to continue writing this. I didn't think much of anyone would like it.

Enjoy the semi-not-so-much-very-vague-cryptic-introduction to the plot!

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Matt and Trey.))

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><p><em><span>Encounter Two - Faint Recognition <span>_

Had Mysterion just committed suicide?

Kyle stood stationary by his window, half leaning out. His mind raced, thoughts muddled and darkened by death. His vision blurred and nausea hit him.

Then his legs crumpled beneath him.

This reaction wasn't right, horrified, yes, but fainting? It was heavy and powerful, like some unknown force. And then he lost consciousness like he'd been heavily drugged.

When he woke up later his mind was foggy and memory was blurred and all that occurred to him that he had slept through his first class of the day.

"Shit!" And then he rushed out of his apartment.

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><p><em>The boy who once had blue eyes shining with hope had long since disappeared, replaced by the cautious young man. It had been a sad and breaking transformation, twisting and warping his sad but still optimistic conscious. Now he knew that things can and will go down South, and he shouldn't depend on some far off hope that he'd wake up the next day and things would magically work out.<em>

_He knew better._

_Not that he had a completely pessimistic outlook, as his hope had been replaced with sheer gritty determination. If things weren't going to work, well, he'd make them. He knew very well that right now frankly, life sucked ass, and whereas a part of him cautiously and gingerly stepped around the many pitfalls around his life, a part of him could only grin with a cocky smile. He'd kept on with life just to spite it, to prove it wrong. If it was going to drag his face through the mud he'd spite it by being the type of man that could take anything, the type of man of man that could stand tall and dignified despite the humiliation in front of him._

_This had been his subconscious though, desperately attempting to shine through all the grim and anger and despair that had grown over._

_On the surface he was just a broken man barraged with misfortune._

_He felt his conscious shatter when he saw his sister's cold body. Blood pooled darkly around her torso, almost black with the lighting, spittled all way up and down the front half of her body. Dark blotches reflecting horribly against serrated steel. The stench of her rotting corpse stinging his nostrils like acid. The ability to breathe left when he saw her clothes: torn, ripped, her bra cut open at the front along with a thin trail of blood along her too-white skin, her panties pulled halfway down her knees._

_And her eyes were open. Hopelessness and death swirled in her blue eyes._

_She had died miserably, stripped mercilessly of her beliefs in the world. Only replaces with the horror of death and rape._

_Rape. They had raped her._

_The blond boy blanched, his knees crumpling under him._

"_Karen..." He gasped out shaking, he mouthed more indistinguishably words but his throat had failed him._

_Like her, all hope had been maliciously ripped from his grasp by this single event._

_And a whole lot more grief was waiting for him around the corner._

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><p>The one thing that Kenny hated the most about dying was the memories that came with it. Every single time it was a dream of something he never wanted to remember, something that hurt because it was a memory. It wouldn't be such horrible nightmares if the events in them had been fake, just his overactive imagination. But they were real. Real and defining.<p>

It was sort of sad that the moments that defined his life were so tragic.

With a heavy sigh and groan he jumped out of his bed, orange parka and striped boxers being the only thing protecting him from the cold. His mind blurred by sleepiness he tried to remember the last time he'd died and what had happened. This was sometimes the case when he'd been revived, a small case of memory loss. Fortunately for him, witnesses were given the same experience. This little trick had gotten him out of more than one pickle.

Stumbling sleepily across his small flat towards the pile of laundry in the corner he runs his hand through his greasy hair, thoughts of a potential bath running through his head. Speaking of pickles... He freezes half-way in between shoving on a pair of ripped jeans, an 'ohfuckingshitcrap' expression forming slowly on his features

It was 9:55 in the morning. Flashes of last-nights events raced around in his mind, stopping at fainting in the alley-way. A part of his brain told him there was something more but he ignored it in favor of remembering the rest later.

The previous events had been an infinitely more amount of important then whatever the hell happened afterwards. Pulling his jeans up the rest of the way he discarded any thoughts of a bath as he stuffed his frayed duffel bag with the various necessities he would need for the next few hours(and possibly the next few days). A certain change of 'clothes', a tazor, a gun, a smoke bomb, and various switchblades, hunting daggers, and other knifes.

Hoisting the bag up to his shoulder he looked nothing more than a college student who'd slept in and was now late for classes. Which means, running down the apartments hallway like a maniac and choosing to take the stairs down the five flights instead of the elevator(stupid thing was probably broken again anyway). In a way he was said 'college student', but fortunately for him he'd decided to steer-free of winter-interim classes.

Not that the apartments tenets would be none the wiser. Besides, it was South Park, and most of the adults frankly just didn't give a damn.

Kenny bit his lip as he jumped down the final flight of stairs to the ground level, his agile frame taking the fall easily as he raced out the door with the glowing red 'EXIT' sign above it. Except running into the man on the other side of the door kind of halted his sprint(and also kind of threw off balance, tumbling clumsily unto his rear). He stopped himself from screaming profanities at the man currently towering over him when he spotted his face.

"Kenny?" The red puff ball on top of his blue hat bobbed as he nodded his head to the right, concern flitting onto his features. Shock, concern, disbelief, and awe hit Kenny's at the sight of the raven haired boy in front of him.

"Stan!" was all he could let before he remembered that 'Kenny' wasn't supposed to know about the course of last nights events. However, he was able to cover it up by concern about the others education, "Dude! Don't you have classes right now?"

Sometimes Kenny simple adored his parka, and its wonderful ability of muffling his voice more than half the time, masking his uncertain tone. And how it covered most of his face was a plus as well. He tended to be more disguised then when he was _actually_ was in disguise(i.e. almost every night).

Stan ran a hand through his hair taking off his beanie in the process, with a audible sigh he pinched his nose, "Yeah, I was. My first class just fucking ended," under his breath he mumbled something darkly about statistics, "and I _was_ going to go get a bite to eat with Kyle after, but the asshole never showed up."

Kenny had never met Stan's best friend Kyle before(most of the time due to whenever Stan had brought him over Kenny tended to be doing other extra-curricular activities next door(i.e. avoiding being stabbed, stopping bank robbers, you know, the usual), but he knew a lot because of how much Stan talked about him.

Speaking of Kyle's... Kenny blinked absent-minded, where had he heard that name recently beside Stan? Kenny shook his head dispelling all thoughts about redheads or refreshing replies. He didn't have time to remember such things, a much more important priority was standing right in front of him.

"And I wanted to talk to him about all the crazy shit I've been through this weekend." Kenny jumped out of his thoughts by Stan's irritated sigh, having almost forgotten the raven was still speaking.

This is it! A chance to ask him about last night!

"What crazy shit?" The blond asked feigning curiosity. He knew _exactly_ what Stan was talking about.

Except well, it wasn't _'Kenny'_ who knew, it was someone more akin to purple and capes.

Stan let out a groan, long and suffering, "No, dude, you wouldn't even believe me if I fucking told you. It's some out of this world shit."

Except, well, Kenny would. He'd witnessed half of it as well.

"Try me." Kenny grinned despite his face being almost invisible inside is large orange hood.

Stan eyed Kenny warily before pinching his nose, "Dude, weren't you in a hurry somewhere? It's a _long_ story."

_Hurrying to find you._

"Naw, I was just tripping over myself back there. I'm free all day" _-ish._ Kenny still had some very important duties to attend for, but this one just happened to take the cake. Stan eyed his small neighbor wearily, fighting some inner battle inside his head. Kenny put on one of his extra innocent and concerned looks and knew that Stan couldn't refuse him.

Eventually Stan groaned loudly to the sky, as if asking the heavens 'Why? Why must you make my life suck so badly? What the hell did I do to you' before giving up. "Fine dude, why don't we go to the cafe down the street and talk." Stan muttered and started walking out of the small apartment complex.

Kenny almost couldn't help the 'whoop!' that was building up in him, but managed to suppress it. Not only did Stan seem somewhat safe, he'd allowed the 'Kenny' persona into the equation by having Stan make him a confidant, but he'd also be getting some breakfast.

Food was always very high on the boys list of priorities. Though, it was one he constantly failed at.

* * *

><p>Stan Marsh has had a very peculiar and interesting week. Though, it can't be said that it all began simply a week ago.<p>

No, it all started for poor little Stan his first day of his amazing college experience. The eighteen year old hadn't expected much more from college life than it being as his old school chef would say 'the time and place for everything'. Being slightly a skeptic, Stan only ever walked lightly on this expectation. Little did he know that whereas he wouldn't be going to extensively awesome parties and trying out new and dangerous things, he _would_ be embarking on the adventure of his life.

Stan was very used to adventures. He'd been adventurous as a kid and this quality had gotten him into plenty enough trouble. But none of it could ever prepare him for what he met on his first day.

Stan Marsh met Leopold 'Butters' Stotch.

And that was when this all really started.

Butters had been nothing more than a friendly face and a new friend, although a bit... socially awkward.

Or at least that was what Stan had thought at the time. Butters had remained a somewhat friend for the whole first semester of college. Stan never put him as any priority other than just a school chum.

But he didn't realize the full impact their meeting had on Butters.

It was a beginning for a bunch of things for the two freshmen.

But Stan has no idea how any of this relates to the crazy adventure that started for him last week. All that Stan knows is that his life took a sudden and very weird twist and that it was happened _way_ too fast. Shouldn't there be just a little more foreshadowing for something like this?

It started for Stan on the first day of the winter interim classes. He had decided to sacrifice his precious spring break in favor of sticking around to keep his best friend company. The overachieving redhead had painfully decided that it was absolutely _necessary _to cram in as many classes as possible.

At least that had been the excuse at face value. Being his best friend, Stan knew the real reason without even having to be told.

Kyle didn't want to go home. Stan could only observe this as _painfully obvious_. Especially with what had happened with Ike last year, it was completely understandable as to the Jew's reluctance to returning to his parent's house.

So obviously being the best super best friend he could be, he took the liberty of signing up for winter classes and providing moral support for his friend(and to avoid the inevitability of getting his ass kicked by his abusive older sister).

But this decision to be a good friend only landed him in a very dangerous situation.

So when Stan got the first threatening letter he was slightly baffled and very confused.

It also made him kinda barf. It _was_ written entirely in blood after all, he could actually _smell_ it the aroma was so strong. His first instinct was to call his best friend to get some advice. His immediate second was to call the police.

"_You have five days."_

That was it, but for the love of god, it was fucking creepy. Stan was near a panic attack when he was about to contact the police about it. he had a freaking _stalker_ for Christ's sake! He thought that only happened to slutty girls! And seriously, five days for what? To give them all his money? Until they rape him? Until they kill him?

_And did he mention that it was written in _blood.

Yeah, very creepy.

But unfortunately Stan never got a chance to call anyone; he kinda dropped his phone in shock when he looked out the window.

There he was, in complete masked glory, _the_ Mysterion, knocking on his window pane.

On the fifth floor.

Stan gaped and let the superhero in. The superhero swept in, took the goddamn threat letter and just as fast, was gone.

That day, Stan was nothing short of stupefied.

He was so baffled that he hadn't even bothered to call anyone.

He would have recovered, but that was just the first of many incidents that week.

Stan's crazy week included being held at gunpoint at a bank robbery, creepy vans following him wherever he went, bus-jacked, endless amount of threat letters, finding a hidden camera in his apartment and then just to ice the whole cake of crazy, kidnapped.

Each and every one of these times, the town's favorite superhero had arrived just in time to save his ass. And on the night before the kidnapping actually _talked_ to him.

"Be careful, you're being targeted by someone."

"No duh, you think I'm so stupid that after this whole fucking week I _haven't_ noticed that?"

"Chill, I'm just telling you to be careful."

And with that he disappeared again.

And then the next day on his way to school, chloroform scented cloth was harshly shoved down his mouth and he woke up inside a warehouse tied up to a annoying pole hidden behind some annoying boxes.

'_This is so much bullshit.'_

Stan sighed indignantly. This had gone from terrifying to seriously grating on his nerves. It didn't even cross his mind to try to contact the police or call Kyle, both had seemed unbearably unreachable in those past few days

He didn't even bother to scream out; it was painfully obvious that he was gagged anyway.

He just glared at the shining metal helmet on the man he couldn't quite see in the warehouses dim lighting.

Butters Stotch grinned maliciously under his disguise.

And then he raised the baseball bat.

* * *

><p>"And then it was all just a fucking blur!" Stan gestured wildly, minding not to spill his coffee. "And I swear to god that bastard hit me so fucking hard! Look at this!" Stan raised his shirt up slightly to reveal the ugly bruise.<p>

They had opted to talking on park benches near Starks Pond for their chat, after discovering the cafe was a bit more than full. It was overflowing. After ordering their coffee and some morning pastry or the other, Kenny couldn't name t if his life depended on it, they had started Stan's 'shocking' story.

Except well they'd been talking for a good half-hour and Kenny still hadn't gotten the information that he needed.

"So how'd you get away?" Kenny attempted his most shocked tone he could manage

"Shh! I'm getting to that!" Stan reprimanded. "Anyway, after he beat me for a good long while, surprise, surprise! Mysterion appears out of nowhere again to save me." Kenny inwardly huffed, he'd thought he had made an amazingly dramatic entrance.

"And?" Annoyance etched slightly over his muffled voice.

With a snap like movement Stan turned to him, ready to ridicule him interrupting once again before he stopped short. Short-lived scolding expression replaced by one of complete affectionate rage.

"Kyle! Where the fuck have you been you asshole!" His shout made Kenny freeze and overwhelming apprehension gripped at his insides. He did not have a good feeling.

_Kyle...?_ Vague memories re refused to indulge surfaced as common sense decided it despised common names before it informed Kenny that it was only Stan's best friend. By then Stan had got up, striding angrily towards the boy Kenny was going to have to meet eventually.

Like time skidding to a halt he slowly turned towards him, "Where the fuck were you this morning! Where have you been all week dude!" He caught a glimpse of red, "You never miss classes, what happened?" Concern seeped into the anger in only a way a close friend could. Kenny caught sight of green eyes.

"Something came up this morning..." and that voice.

Time stopped in milliseconds as their eyes met.

Green ushanka and orange hood.

"Who is that...?" Kyle asked, faint and confused recognition flitting across green irises.

Kenny was never so happy for his hood in that moment.

* * *

><p>((Ending Notes: ldfsfjaslfjfa Kenny, you're screwed! ;A; Is it just me or does the ending lose a lot of quality...? Oh well, the next chapter will be better. I'm so sorry I'm writing this so slow, I'm still working out the plot v<p>

Please review, without encouragement I might wallow in a hole and die and never continue... Anything is appreciated(criticism, flames, praise, etc.) But I just really want to know you're guy's opinions. ;w;

-An Anxious Burbs))


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